Baby Mine
by MuchFailSauce
Summary: "My dearest baby boy,  I know you can't see me or hear my voice, but I'm here next to you." The things his mama would have said are lost forever-because when death comes early all she can leave behind is a boy at a piano and a ghost's whisper in his ear.


**Disclaimer: If I owned Hitman Reborn, Colonello would have been shown doing pushups in a tanktop by now, maggots!  
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**Fandom: Katekyoushi Hitman Reborn  
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**Characters: Gokudera Hayato, Gokudera Lavina (Since Gokudera's her son, I guess that's her name...?)  
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**Warnings: Spoilers for people who don't know about Gokudera's family situation...? There's some Italian in there that might be wrong or something...but I think it's right.  
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**Other: You have to have read the light novel story about Gokudera for this to make sense; there's a story about how he was living his life on the streets and how he met some really good people and then _screwed it up_ because the boy can't take a goddamn hint and just let people take care of him. Anyway, you can read a translation of it here: http: / / desertwell. net /Bakudan. htm****l (remove the spaces. I think it's from Japanese to Chinese to English, so it's a little wierd, but the stories good and I'm really glad she translated it). **

**And also, Gokudera's mom's name is Lavina, which I didn't know.**

**EDIT: http: / / www . youtube . com/ watch?v=rbLg6-MvOFo My Beta sent it to me, for mood music. (Screw you, ACV. :.) Thats really really sad. And merry christas, BTW. ~3)  
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><p>My dearest baby boy,<p>

I know you can't see me or hear my voice, but I'm here next to you. I was there for your birthday, and I cried because I couldn't give you my gift or tell you how amazing your playing is getting. I can't hold your papa anymore either. I hope you never have to feel as helpless as I do right now, darling; sometimes I think that to be this helpless and alone is the worst feeling in the world. My only comfort is that I can watch you grow up into the strong young man I know you're going to be.

I can't hope that you'll ever know my name or remember me as your mother, but I will watch over you forever, _mio caro_.

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><p>Oh my poor, poor child, you are like both of your parents in so many ways. You are your father's brave, stubborn son, just as much as you are mine; independent and fierce and far too idealistic. You are intelligent and music flows out of your fingertips and you grow more beautiful by the day, but your heart is made of glass and you've got a tongue as sharp as knives. The best and worst of both of us.<p>

Every day you are alone, I am terrified. Every day you run further from your family your father and I pray for your safety and your sister cries. You're _too_ smart this time, my little genius—too smart to ask questions. You understand _omerta _already, and you can see that my death wasn't an accident and I'm sorry. I would never have left you if I had had a choice. There is so much you will never stop to ask your father and will never guess on your own, and now you're running away and I can do nothing but follow you and hope.

I remember when you were three years old and smiling, and how your eyes used to shine. But now your face is so thin and I can see every one of your ribs—and your eyes are so, so sad, it breaks my heart. If you would cry, I would be strong. (That's my job, because if you're afraid and crying, your mama can't help but be strong.) But you just stare at the world and hold all of your crying inside.

If you could hear me I would beg you to go home. But even when you're alone and far from home, I will love you and watch over your dreams.

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><p>Happy eleventh birthday, my love.<p>

It's amazing to me how much you've grown since you left your father's house—you've taken the streets and wrapped them around you like a second skin. You're can take care of yourself now (even thought you always choose not to) and you're so strong and so independent it's hard to believe you're the same little boy who used to sit on my lap and reach out for the keys of the piano. You are neither me, nor your father; you've become something new, someone who wouldn't fit in my concert halls and Tokyo hotels, or in your father's mansions and manors. You've become the boy from the streets; smoking and drinking and holding onto your life one hour at a time and all because I left you alone and never told you the truth. You were so young to learn it like you did.

You know, if you had stayed with your father you would be the next boss. He promised me you would have the choice, but you would never choose anything else. But instead you ran away, and now you wake up every morning and fight and burn and throw your dynamite and have more close calls in an hour than I have ever had in my entire life. (Although it didn't last very long, I suppose—I was twenty-one when I died. They told me I would probably only live to fifteen, but how could I die after meeting your father? And when you were born I thought I would live forever, you were so beautiful.) Throwing dynamite…you always choose the strangest ways to do things. Always unique, that's my little boy. I would haunt Shamal for that, if I thought it would help.

I know you're lonely, and I know it hurts, but hold on, alright? Hold on for me, because if you can hold on then someday you'll find someone who'll love you (almost) as much as I do.

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><p>It has been five years since I've heard you play the piano, and the fact that you can still bring that kind of beauty out of an old bar piano is just another sign of what a gift you have. My poor, brave boy, you think that strength is fighting all alone, but your loneliness is eating you up inside, and this man is a <em>good <em>man. He could be a father to you, since your father is so far away—since you wouldn't want him anyway. Carlo is his name, isn't it? I don't have the words to tell you how glad I am that you have met someone like him; someone who can look past all the walls you've put up and see how scared you really are and how badly you need someone to help you. Please, sweetheart, _let_ him help you. These people could be your new family, if you'll just stop running and let someone love you.

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><p>If you talked to your father he would tell you that you were weak and you ran away—he's always harsh when he's worried, and you came within seconds of dying, it would make any parent worried. But I'm also proud. I'm so unbelievably proud of you for choosing to do the right thing. God bless you all; you and Carlo and his son and that wonderful old man who was there for you when I couldn't be.<p>

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><p>I wonder if all mothers feel this way about their children; this amazement at every little thing you do; this never-ending joy just to see you, every morning. And who wouldn't be proud of you? The most powerful family in Italy has chosen you, out of all the people they could send, to help protect their next heir and I know you'll do whatever you have to do to live up to their expectations. You haven't had a single lesson in Japanese since you ran away, but you're still my little genius—most people would take years to pick up what you learned in a few weeks. I wish I could tell you how happy it makes me feel to see you with fire in your eyes again and money you're not going to throw away just so you can forget where you are.<p>

I wonder if you can feel me here, sitting next to you—you've always liked to believe in the things you can't see. I like to think somehow my voice my voice got through to you and that's why you're always looking for a way to see what's invisible and touch what doesn't exist. When you find that way (and someday you will, I have no doubt) I'll be right here waiting for you to see me.

I hope you'll like Japan. I know if you _could_ hear me you'd be rolling your eyes, telling me to stop worrying, but I'm your mother after all. All I can do is hope you'll do the right thing even without anyone to help you along the way.

There's a great, wide world waiting for you out there—everything you deserve and more, my beloved baby boy, my precious Hayato, and when you reach it, even I can't imagine how high you'll fly.

But we'll find out.

_Ti voglio bene, _

_Lavina_

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><p><strong>So <strong>**much mom stuff right now, I just figured I'd share some of it. Mom is having health issues and I read the khr light novel thing about Gokudera being all alone on the streets and then watched Dumbo for the first time in years today and godammit I've _graduated highschool_ a baby elephant and his mother shouldn't make me cry that hard-it's not legal! And then I started thinking about how sad his mom must be, since she can't see her baby growing up and overcoming all the people who made fun of him and becoming famous and I just started bawling so hard and pounded this thing out in about twenty minutes. Hey, Gokudera, you know why you've lived so long? Becuase you have a _guardian angel_ watching over you. And it's your mom, and she's so proud of her baby...  
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**I've got to go now. Damn you, Dumbo.  
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